


Phantom of the Science Lab

by ConverseNinja004



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, M/M, Music inspired prompt, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConverseNinja004/pseuds/ConverseNinja004
Summary: After a particular movie night at Swerve’s Brainstorm starts having some odd dreams about his newest lab partner and his ex lab partner/crush.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor (Transformers), Brainstorm/Quark (Transformers)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Phantom of the Science Lab

“It’s over now, the music of the night!” The music crescendoing before fading to silence.

A curtain falls as the credits start to roll, humans’ names scroll pass as mechs move to leave the bar. As the credits roll the lights brighten as Swerve cuts the movie off. Mechs chattering and laughing fills the bar back to its usual den. An instrumental cover of the Cheers theme plays softly in the background overpowered by calls and jeers of over charged mechs and Whirl.

“That poor guy! All he wanted was to be loved,” Tailgate gushes to Cyclonus, Rewind and Chromedome. Nautica and Skids were nudging Riptide who had passed out about ten minutes in. Ratchet sits at the bar still nursing his drink looking slightly more morse than usual. 

“Look, all I’m saying is if you’re going to have the word ‘phantom’ in your movie title you could at least make it a horror film with actual ghosts. Pit it could be the same movie but with an actual ghost you know,” Rodimus complains to Megatron. Megatron sighs attempting to ignore his co captain in favor of discussing the cultural aspects with Rung and Ultra Magnus. Others left shrugging confused or complaining to their friends or singing in praise and mocking voices.

Off in the corner Brainstorm swirls the last of his high grade watching mechs go. “So what did you think of Magnus’s ‘cultural appreciation’ movie night Perce?”

Said mech’s droll reply, “Humans crave love desperately sometimes to an fanatical degree, the movie depicts a more extreme fantasy.”

Snorting Brainstorm downs the last of his drink. Humans aren’t the only ones he thought. Both mechs sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The microscope is the first to move by placing his glass and a few shanix down. The jet stares from the corner of his optics, golden eyes noting the stiff movements of the other. Turning Brainstorm starts to ask if the other is alright but Perceptor cuts him off.

“Good evening Brainstorm.” Perceptor excuses himself quickly, pushing away from the bar. Brainstorm trails the microscope's path, his golden optics dimming at his crushs’ retreat. Waving Swerve over Brainstorm orders one last drink before stumbling back to his habsuite. 

After a few mispunches Brainstorm enters his room. His mood had soured on the trek back to his room and his latest gun lays innocently in pieces about his desk. He and Perceptor had whispered about it during the movie. Hoping to impress the ship’s other genus with his newest venture, a cybertronian version of a portal gun. Perceptor for his part had offered a few ideas while poking holes in some of his theories. Flopping into the berth he nuzzles into his pillow, consciousness slowly slipping away as the high grade works its way through his systems.

Inhibitions crumbles as a lazy hand skates down his frame, a slight charge titillating his sensors. He hums as little arcs of sparks dance in the wake of digits. Cutting through the haze of high grade an image of Perceptor came, crawling overtop Brainstorm to descend upon his neck nibbling and nipping as the microscopes' clever fingers following the trails Brainstorm’s own digits had mapped. Tricking between his thighs, lubricant dribbling past his still closed panel.

An ache settles deep in his frame. Black digits trace equations over his panel before said panel folds away and those digits smear dripping equations through the mesh lips of his valve and tease at his anterior node on each upward pass. Gasping Brainstorm wiggles his hips trying to impale himself on those teasing digits, hoping to ride them all the way to an overload. Even this figment of Preceptor was cold pulling his servo away as his digits ghost along the entrance to the wet heat inside. Whining at the teasing Brainstorm bucks even more.

“Perce please,” begging Brainstorm reaches for Perceptor. Overload hung so close dangling just a few touches away. Cupping Perceptor’s face broke the illusion, black digits disappeared only to be replaced by his own white digits swiping furiously over his node. His overload was cold and crashing with a dreamless defrag following shortly after.


End file.
